18. Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Eighteen
“I can’t believe you did this,” Paige said, grinning up at him, making him feel like a rockstar for simply renting out a skating rink for the evening.
“I wanted it to be just us.” He grinned back. “No fans. No phones.” Just Paige. A real date. Something he’d been craving for weeks now.
“I’m glad you asked.” She squeezed his arm.
“I’m glad you accepted.” Ethan hadn’t stopped thinking about her these past few days—about the space he’d tried to put between them, the jealousy he hadn’t been able to shake after seeing that dating app notification.
Distance had been a terrible idea. It hadn’t settled his heart.
It had only made him miss her more. And seeing her struggle with her writing had shattered the last of his pride. The distance had affected her too.
It had taken everything he had to message her. To ask her out. But being with her now, he knew—he was done fighting it. Done masking his feelings.
“Welcome to Sk8 Galaxy,” he said, pushing open the door so they could step inside.
The rink hadn’t changed much since his childhood.
It still had that retro, slightly funky-smelling charm.
A shimmering disco ball spun over the center of the slick floor.
Neon lights pulsed to an eighties’ playlist. At the far counter, rows of scuffed rental skates lined shelves. It was a human-sized time capsule.
“Are you kidding me right now?” Paige looked around with wide, delighted eyes. “This is amazing!”
Ethan laughed, sliding his hands in his pockets. “Did I impress you?”
“I am fully impressed.” She put a hand on her hip like she might award him a trophy.
Pride and nerves collided in his chest. “I figured you deserved a first date with a disco ball and the very real chance of witnessing me crash.” He wanted to do something fun and light. Something they’d be able to laugh and connect over.
“Crash? Oh boy. I’ll probably join you,” she said with a laugh. “I haven’t done this in forever.”
“You’ll pick it right up,” he said as they walked along the edge of the rink, headed for the rental counter. “When’s the last time you skated?”
Paige scrunched up her face, thinking. “I think I was twelve or thirteen. It was a friend’s birthday party. I fell, trying to do the limbo, and took out the DJ’s entire setup.” She raised her brows at him, emphasizing the disaster. “You sure you want to skate with me?”
“I’m sure,” he replied, making her smile.
“How about you? When’s the last time you roller-skated?”
“Freshman year of high school,” he chuckled. “Here, actually.”
“Really?”
Ethan nodded. “Yeah, I went through a weird tie-dye skater phase. Had my own skates with glow-in-the-dark wheels.”
“I love that visual.” Paige gave him a look he couldn’t decipher, but they reached the counter and were distracted by a staff member asking for their shoe sizes.
A few minutes later, they sat next to each other on a bench, lacing up skates in the carpeted lounge.
Paige’s socks had little dancing avocados all over them.
He couldn’t help but smile at the sight of them peeking out from the top of her skates.
“I just hope my body remembers how to do this,” Paige said, tugging her laces tight.
“You will,” Ethan promised.
“I don’t want to fall on my face.”
“I won’t let you.” He stood, balancing on his skates and offering his hand. She took it.
“Okay,” she said, her gaze tentative. “I’m trusting you. Don’t let me down, Cole.”
He wanted her trust. All of it. And when she stood, wobbly, Ethan grasped her tight, steadying her. They drifted toward the rink and stepped out cautiously—testing their footing like newborn colts.
“Okay, I think I got this,” Paige said after half a lap. She let go of his hand.
“You sure?” He didn’t want to let go of her, but Paige nodded and skated off on her own. She took a few shaky strides, arms pinwheeling for balance, before she caught herself on the half wall.
“Whoa. Okay.” She chuckled. “You are not allowed to laugh if I fall.”
“Me? Laugh?” Ethan placed a hand to his chest, gliding into an easy stride across the rink. “I would never.”
She gave him a look, challenging him, then pushed off the wall. Wobbly. Determined.
He skated toward her. “Bend your knees, Moon.”
“I am!”
“Not enough,” he countered.
“You’re very bossy on skates.”
“Only because I don’t want you to face-plant.”
“I would prefer not to do that either,” she said, laughing as she managed a tight turn. “Okay, I think I got this . . ” She wobbled again, and he offered his hand. He felt lighter when she grabbed hold.
“You’re doing great,” he encouraged, meaning it.
Slowly, they found a rhythm—hand in hand.
The rink lights dimmed, and the disco ball spun overhead, scattering silver flecks of light across the floor and on their faces.
For a moment, Ethan let himself lean into the magic of it.
Paige’s laughter. The nostalgic music. Her fingers curled around his.
This was exactly what he’d hoped for. Maybe more.
Why hadn’t he asked her on a real date sooner?
“I have to admit,” Paige said after another lap, “I think this might be the best date I’ve ever been on.”
“Best?” he asked, genuinely shocked. Maybe a little concerned. “What kind of dates have you been on?”
She shrugged. “I’ve had a lot of bad dates.”
He laughed, inching closer. “Well, I’m honored to be the best of the bad.”
“You’re the best of the good ones too,” she added, teasing—but there was something in her voice, something real, that hit him square in the chest.
They rounded the curve of the rink again just as Cyndi Lauper’s Girls Just Want to Have Fun burst through the speakers. Paige squealed and picked up speed, bouncing and swaying in time with the music, her laughter lighting up the rink better than the disco ball.
Ethan matched her energy, pushing off faster and skating backward so he could watch her—really watch her.
Everything about her pulled him in. The easy way she laughed, the glow in her cheeks, the way she moved like she didn’t care who was watching. She had a kind of honest, unfiltered joy that tugged at something deep inside him, something he’d almost forgotten how to feel.
She made him feel good. Real. Like maybe, just maybe, he was allowed to want more.
“You know,” she said, skating up close, breathless from their skate-dance session. “You’re full of surprises.”
He arched a brow, still coasting backwards, wanting to grab hold of Paige and spin her into his arms. “Is that a good thing?”
She studied him, something soft and knowing in her gaze. “The guy I saw on TV? That wasn’t this guy.” She waved a hand up and down.
He held her gaze, the sincerity in her eyes cutting right through him. “I don’t show this guy to many people.”
“I’m glad you show him to me,” she replied, and Ethan swallowed, skating in silence for a moment, her vulnerability opening something inside of him.
“Can I tell you a secret?” he asked, and she nodded.
“I went on that show because I was lost,” he admitted, wanting Paige to know his truth.
“I wasn’t sure where my life was going. I was lonely traveling for my job.
I’d lost touch with friends. The only family I really had was my grandparents, and they encouraged me to take the risk, to follow the adventure.
I needed . . . something to change. I needed to feel something again. ”
Paige followed him, skating close. Her quiet presence was a comfort.
“You felt lost?” she asked.
He nodded. “I wasn’t looking for a relationship. That was actually the last thing I needed. But when Tatiana made me feel seen out there in the wilderness, I grabbed on to it. Even when it didn’t feel quite right. Even when I knew, deep down, it wasn’t real.”
“When did you know?” Paige asked, reaching out a hand. He took hold. “That it wasn’t real?”
Ethan took a breath. “I overheard her talking to production one night. It was all an act. She wasn’t interested in me—just the narrative it created. She was playing into a story the producers loved.”
Paige’s hand tightened around his.
“They edited the footage to make me the villain,” Ethan continued. “The guy who crushed her heart for no reason, other than to win the prize money. I didn’t bother setting the record straight.”
Paige’s gaze flicked across his face, searching for answers. “Why not?”
“It wasn’t worth it,” Ethan said, remembering how he got ripped apart on social and in the media after the last episode aired. “The truth didn’t matter. The audience wanted someone to root against. And honestly? Part of me felt like I deserved it. For being stupid enough to fall for her act.”
“You didn’t deserve that,” she said fiercely. “And shame on production for making you the villain. You got so much hate after that last episode. They made you look horrible.”
“It doesn’t matter. I knew the truth.” He shrugged a shoulder. “And I told the truth to the people that mattered most to me.”
Paige tipped her head, and Ethan thought she caught his message—that she was important to him.
“I’m sorry that happened to you, but thank you for telling me,” she said, and they skated in silence for a lap, the thrum of music filling the space between them. Then Paige added, “I don’t think what we have is an act, by the way. Not anymore.” Then, quieter, she added, “Do you?”
Ethan steadied himself so he didn’t trip.
This woman understood him better than anyone ever had.
Everything inside him twisted and yearned for her.
He wanted to tell her he hadn’t felt like this about anyone .
. . ever. That he was sure he was skating hand in hand with the real thing.
But he was also terrified to put his heart out there again.
“I think what we have is different from anything I’ve experienced,” he said, the words dragging every exposed, vulnerable part of him to the surface.
Paige’s smile wobbled. It nearly undid him. “Me too.”
They slowed and circled each other, nearing the center of the rink where they finally stopped.
He turned to face her. The disco ball cast stars across the worn floor and Paige’s upturned face.
Ethan pulled her close, both hands sliding around her waist. Setting her hands on his chest, she captured him with her chocolate, knowing eyes.
And his heart ached—with the wanting, the fear, the reckless hope he hadn’t dared to feel until her.
“You scare me, Moon,” he admitted, brushing a curl from her face.
Her fingers twisted into the fabric of his shirt. “Good,” she whispered back. “You scare me too.”
Ethan swallowed hard, his chest rising and falling with shallow, uneven breaths. This wasn’t pretend. Not even close. He dipped his head, grazing his nose against hers, feeling her breath catch, running his lips over hers in a gentle brush.
“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he murmured, the words slipping out raw and unguarded.
Paige straightened. Just for a second. But it was enough to tear straight at his heart.
The tiniest pullback. The faintest shift of her weight.
And Ethan knew—he felt it like a blade—he’d said too much.
And then Paige lost her balance, and they both tumbled to the floor.